


heartbeat | love lies

by BabaTunji



Category: Black Panther (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harem, Cousin Incest, Heightened Sex Drive, M/M, Mpreg, N'Jobu Lives, Pregnant Character Continues Canon-Typical Perilous Activity Despite Pregnancy, Pregnant Sex, Rough Oral Sex, Top Erik Killmonger, Weird Biology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-25 13:28:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20026588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BabaTunji/pseuds/BabaTunji
Summary: The prince and his concubine are expecting.





	heartbeat | love lies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Yen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yen/gifts).

> Treat for mpreg flash event.
> 
> mood: "love lies" https://open.spotify.com/track/45Egmo7icyopuzJN0oMEdk?si=r8TtfGftRpSqmrvp4ewsWg

T'Challa doesn't come to greet him when he arrives. Erik doesn’t think too hard about it, his favorite is a busy man. It also let his other wives more time with him. He enjoys the night and the attention but by the next day he’s getting a little impatient. He’s been gone for weeks, didn’t T’Challa miss him at all? It’s not until he mentions his annoyance out loud that someone mentions T’Challa’s on restricted privileges. Again. Seeing as he had been gone this entire time, the only person who could place his first consort and favorite concubine on house arrest is his father. Fuck.

He heads to his cousin’s wing after that, not waiting to get the undoubtedly embellished story from his wives. T’Challa is prideful, more than that he’s pregnant. Or had been the last time Erik saw him. If he’d done something dumb, or pissed off Wakanda’s king enough… Erik doesn’t breathe easy until he gets to his cousin’s wing and sees T’Challa in the flesh.

When he finds him, T’Challa is lounging; a tray propped on the swell of his belly, mostly naked and looking way too comfortable for someone who pissed Erik’s father off for entertainment. He looks up when Erik enters the room, but doesn’t acknowledge him, popping what looks like a grape into his mouth, gaze fixed on the display in front of him.

“Not even a hello?” He’s still irritated but it's simmered down from the sight in front of him. T’Challa looks so fucking good. His cousin must know it because all he does in response to Erik’s words is shift on the large sofa; offering a better view, yes, but also challenging Erik in his silence. Erik prowls closer, dick growing stiffer by the second in his pants.

He doesn’t ask what T’Challa did this time, or how long he’s been on house arrest. His dad will tell him whenever he goes to see him. When he’s right in front of the sofa, he stops, leans down to pick through the fruit on the platter.

“How’s the baby doing?” The tangerine slice isn’t sweet at all, now that he looks nothing on the platter looks sweet, only sour or bitter fruits.

“Dancing on my bladder, why do you ask?” T’Challa finally responds and Erik smiles. Sets a hand on the man’s shoulder.

“Might be twins, I read something where that happened.” The scans say it's just one baby, a girl big enough to give T’Challa trouble come delivery time. But scans could be wrong, and sometimes if a fetus was small enough or conjoined—Erik stops himself from following that line of thought. He’s been reading too much.

“For your sake, I pray that is not the case.” T’Challa picks up the platter and sets it on the nearby coffee table. His expression is curious, he asks: “Did you get my gift?”

Erik has to think about it. T’Challa’s idea of a gift and it somehow reaching him where he’s been the last month.

“You didn’t.” He says it like T’Challa wouldn’t, apprehension and horror and fear and a couple other fucked up emotions moving through him. T’Challa would. He really would. The ‘gift’ is a ceasefire. He should have been stationed longer than he was, but certain mission parameters had changed because a rebel leader mysteriously went missing and—”Who knows?” How had he gotten out of the country looking like he was right now?

“No one. Well, besides your father.” T’Challa sounds pleased. In any other situation, Erik would be pleased with him. “You won’t be allowed to leave this wing until you deliver. You realize that right?” He’s not kidding, what even…

“I was very careful, I thought you would appreciate it.” T’Challa doesn’t sound repentant at all, it’s so infuriating.

“I’m not getting deployed again until after the due date. No more gifts.” Please. His dad would chew him out for this, the minute he realized just how early Erik had returned.

“No more gifts, are you sure?” T’Challa’s hand settles on his right hip, tugs him lower. His tone is low and sweet, Erik must be the biggest sucker in the world because he doesn’t pull away. Goes down to his knees so his face comes up a little lower than T’Challa’s, still lounging.

“Very sure.” He whispers back before leaning in to press a kiss to T’Challa’s cheek, his neck. They can argue later about what you should and shouldn’t do while pregnant. He doesn’t get far before T’Challa pinches his side.

He pulls back, confused. “What?”

“Welcome back.” T’Challa’s smile is perfectly innocent. Erik clears his throat, he’s so glad T’Challa is safe, despite his best efforts to the contrary. “It’s good to be home.”

He stands up from where he’s been kneeling, sits on the edge of the sofa. T’Challa doesn’t budge from where he’s lying down so they’re pressed right up against each other. He wants to pet the bump but T’Challa is sensitive about anyone touching his belly.

Erik's not always been good about respecting T'Challa's boundaries. He's trying to be better now. Mostly in an effort not to stress the man out more. He has things he wants to say, mostly about work. Stuff T'Challa would already know if the brief he had been reading when Erik walked in was any indication. He decides to enjoy the silence and the momentary peace. He's still bone tired from days of very little sleep and tense operations. Being home like this, with T'Challa soothes him more than anything else.

"Don't fall asleep, it's too early." T'Challa breaks the silence and Erik opens up eyes he hadn't realized he closed. "What?" It comes out low and grumbly. He just wants to relax in relative peace for awhile. Cause the minute his dad realized he was home he would be hearing all about T'Challa's latest escapades and getting press ganged to "discipline" his husband.

"Let's move to the bed at least. You're falling asleep on top of me." T'Challa is exaggerating, Erik is barely leaning on him. But he makes himself stand, offers a hand to help T'Challa up, which the pregnant man ignores.

Together they walk over to the bedroom. He walks a few steps behind T'Challa, and gets a little too distracted by the man's mostly bare back. The entire wing is a bit cooler than it would normally be but T'Challa doesn't seem cold at all. Pregnancy made him run hot, or so he complained.

Before getting into bed he takes off his clothes leaving only his underwear on. Hes folding it away when he looks up to catch T'Challa watching. "Something happen?" T'Challa is more actions than words so Erik isn't too bothered by the quiet.

"No. Just watching you undress. Why? You watch me all the time." T'Challa has called him a voyeur before. He didn’t mind, except T'Challa hadn't just been watching him, he'd been watching with intent. Thirst almost. Oh wait–huh. Erik smiles, asks syrupy sweet: "How are your hormones treating you?"

He's being a dick and he knows it. T'Challa didn't like socializing with his wives and per their marriage agreement those were the only people he could fuck. He had toys, Erik saw the case and the cover for two different ones on the way to the bed. But toys weren't the real thing and with him being gone for weeks, T'Challa had to be horny.

In lieu of a verbal response he gets a glare and then what is probably a vibrator thrown at his head. He ducks instead of catching it.

"I'm home. Not going anywhere, come on." He probably shouldn't have spent his first night with the ladies, when he had a whole pregnant, stubborn husband waiting for him. But he'd assumed T'Challa was busy—or just didn't want to see him. His behavior earlier, with the whole ignoring Erik is starting to make sense now.

He walks closer to bed, hands raised in a pacifying gesture. "You could be mad at me or… you could let me make it up to you." Erik knows which he prefers, his dick does too.

"How will you make it up to me?" T'Challa doesn't sound impressed but he also hasn't moved from his spot on the bed.

"I could massage your feet, your back. Maybe use a toy, something easy. Get you all nice and relaxed for me." The last time he did something like this T'Challa had been ready for another round, an hour after Erik tapped out.

T'Challa shakes his head. "Not what I want at the moment."

“What do you want?” He’s climbed on the bed now.

T’Challa watches him, then he crawls closer. At the last second he swipes at Erik’s face. Erik sees it coming but it doesn’t actually occur to him to do more than deflect. Which is how he ends up with something sharp pressed right against his neck. T’Challa staring right at him, gaze unflinching not even breathing hard. “I’m not an invalid. Nor have I suddenly become incompetent. Don’t treat me like I have.”

Erik is breathing hard, panic mostly, not actual exertion. Whatever fight T’Challa and his dad must have been real bad.

He speaks calmly, “People underestimate pregnant people, I got it. Won’t do it again.” The blade doesn’t move from his neck.

Erik cheats.

Moving inhumanely fast, faster than T’Challa can follow, to restrain the hand holding the blade. “It’s not me you’re mad at, put that away.”

T’Challa obeys grudgingly. Erik would be more worried if T’Challa didn’t also take the opportunity to grope him. The mild adrenaline rush from T’Challa’s little stunt is doing a number on his libido. Before, he had just planned to get T’Challa off then nap. Now—Well now he wants a bit more than that.

This time, T’Challa kisses him and there’s nothing soft or innocent about it. He gets the message T’Challa is sending when he pulls away to breath and gets bit for his trouble. T’Challa didn’t want soft and gentle, he wanted a good hard fuck. Erik could do that, within reason.

The logistics are a bit different from the last time Erik saw T’Challa and he takes a minute to marvel at how much the bump has grown. Before T’Challa can complain, he shimmies down and greets T’Challa’s dick with his tongue.

He feels like he's unwrapping a present, watching T'Challa get fully hard. The natural curve of his dick isn't as obvious yet and Erik savors being able to deepthroat him easily. When Erik starts to struggle to take him all the way down he pulls off, teeth grazing the tip.  
  
He has a hand on T'Challa's thigh and the other hand on his own dick. He uses the hand previously on T'Challa's thighs to massage his balls. T'Challa's too big for him to use his tongue and deepthroat now. The angle and girth of his dick, makes things even more dangerous. So Erik prompts T'Challa a bit.

One hand on his balls the other at the base of his dick. He mouths the tip, teasing for much longer than necessary before taking him into his throat. Stopping halfway and repeating the motion. He knows it feels good but it’s not enough. He never actually pulls off, but he doesn't actually take T'Challa's dick all the way. The tip of his dick makes contact with Erik's throat repeatedly but the warm pressure isn't enough.  
  
Eventually T'Challa grows frustrated enough and a hand comes down to press Erik's head the last few inches so his nose touches the hair on his groin and his throat 'swallows' around T'Challa's dick. Erik is expecting it but it takes a real effort not to immediately pull away.

T'Challa rocks into his mouth and Erik takes it. The seconds stretch and his esophagus muscles contract several times, before Erik pulls back. His throat is burning now and it hurts to swallow the mixture of cum and spit accumulating in his mouth.

He can feel the tremors, running through T'Challa and he steadies himself to repeat the motion with T'Challa's 'help.' The third time T'Challa presses his head down the last few inches, he finally comes. Erik has to restrain T'Challa's hands so he doesn't choke too bad.

This time when he pulls away he takes his time, swallowing some of the come and allowing the rest to fill his mouth. Probably one of the fastest, more haphazard blowjobs he’s given. Erik;s a little proud. He spits some of the come out, so it dribbles onto his stomach and his hand; makeshift lube for his own dick.

He’s pretty sure T’Challa is ready for him, but he takes some time to check, pressing one finger and then two inside him. Unsurprisingly T’Challa is delightfully loose. “What size did you use today?” He asks, pressing in deeper, while stroking his dick in tandem.

T’Challa groans at the question but doesn’t actually answer, oversensitive from his orgasm no doubt. Not the first one today either. Erik handles him gently, turning him over and angling his hips. He’s careful to arrange him so there’s no pressure on his belly. If T’Challa were more responsive he’d opt for a reverse-cowgirl position, but in this case doggy-style works just as well.

When the head of his dick presses at the rim of T’Challa’s ass his husband finds his words again. “Go slow.” A command but also a plea, T’Challa’s been busy while he was gone. Probably sensitive. He listens and presses is in slow. There’s very little resistance and Erik has to grit his teeth and count a bit so he doesn’t come too soon. He’s been on edge since he walked into the wing and saw T’Challa lounging like some demi-god of fertility.

Then there was that little display with the knife? T’Challa’s gift? His crazy fucking husband might have the sense of a chicken but when he handled a mission he handled it well. Pregnant or no. Then that blowjob? Fuck if his throat wouldn’t hurt for a few days but he had no regrets because choking on his husband’s cock was always worth it.  
“Not this slow.” T’Challa’s voice breaks his horny reminiscing and he chuckles, smacks the man’s ass. “I already fucked Amina and N’Dari today, chill.”

T’Challa grumbles but settles, Erik picks up the pace. It’s still over too soon for his liking. Something about the way T’Challa clenches, tight and hot around him. The angle, the view, the sounds he makes when Erik thrusts with a bit too much strength. T’Challa doesn’t seem to mind, having tapped out after the blowjob.

He pulls out as gently as he can but T’Challa still complains, then he has to hunt down a towel for the mess they’ve made on the bed. T’Challa naturally doesn’t move an inch, settling back on the bed and leaving Erik with cleanup. Once he’s satisfied that they won't wake up caked in come and other fluids he settles in besides T’Challa.

There was stuff they had to talk about, things he had to know about T’Challa’s little adventure. But for the moment, a nap was in order. Maybe he would go by the king’s wing, talk to his dad by the end of the week. Maybe.

**Author's Note:**

> Halfway through this I realize Erik is kind of T'Challa's bitch lmaoo (have you ever met a pregnant person???) very fun. 
> 
> Background is Wakandan empire led by N'Jobu (T'Chaka died lol at some point whoops)  
I don't need an excuse to write harem/concubine verse soo, hope you enjoy :D  
(i interchange concubine/husband/consort but basically its a harem. T'Challa is a concubine and a prince lol but he's also a consort and Erik's first spouse and only husband).
> 
> i casted T'Challa's and Erik's dicks for abo, canon and au divergent (very important stuff lemme tell you)


End file.
